


Iacon High

by nan00k



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, M/M, kill me for writing this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-15
Updated: 2013-07-15
Packaged: 2017-12-20 05:49:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/883667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nan00k/pseuds/nan00k
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Schoolgirl Tailgate only wants Cyclonus-senpai to notice him on his first day attending Iacon High.</p><p>In other words: I wrote perhaps the worst Transformers fan fiction in existence for a friend's birthday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Iacon High

**Author's Note:**

> One of my best friends asked me to write, and I quote, "a story about robots in high school." I was driven to drink in order to write this. It's the worst thing I've ever created. Part of me died inside. But here it is, because maybe I'm still a little drunk.
> 
> The footnotes were written for a non-TF fan, but I decided to keep them for aesthetic purposes. For whatever reason, I used mostly IDW mechs also.
> 
>  **Disclaimer** : _Transformers_ (C) Hasbro/IDW. I own nothing. Not even my dignity after this.  
>  **Warning** : japanese anime tropes, gross out-of-character-ness (sort of?), passive-aggressive footnotes, minor foul language, degradation of this entire series

 

  
**IACON HIGH**   
_Reluctantly Written by Nan00k_  
 _For Bill, because he is a butt._

It was his first day of class at Iacon High. He was nervous, but Tailgate felt a deep thrill go through his chassis when he thought about all that he could finally accomplish. He had always dreamed of going to the elite school ever since he was a sparkling and his creators had told him about their time there. Most of Iacon’s population went to the academy, but it felt like a faraway dream to finally go there himself.

Tailgate, being a minibot, was nervous about disappearing into the ranks of other ‘bots attending the school, but he also had high hopes that he would fit in and have a great first year.

He especially hoped Cyclonus-senpai noticed him. He had admired his one-horned frame from afar and was always impressed with Cyclonus’ knowledge of history. He was so smart. Tailgate wished Cylonus had paid him more attention growing up in the same neighborhood, but maybe, if he tried hard enough at the academy, Cyclonus would.

On the first day of class, all the robot cherry trees were in full bloom. Tailgate woke up later than he had planned, all because his creators had forgotten not to mess with his alarm clock.

“I’m late!” he cried, rushing around their apartment, fumbling with his shoes. He then stopped, realizing he could transform into a car. He didn’t need shoes.

Pipes, his creator, leaned out of the front room and grinned. “Don’t be so worried, Tailgate! I’m sure your day is going to be great. You’re going to make so many new friends!”

“I’m leaving!” Tailgate said as he waved goodbye. “Wish me luck!”

“They grow up so fast,” Pipes said with a sigh as the front door slammed and Tailgate rushed outside.

“Yeah, we just upgraded his frame a vorn(1) ago,” Skids agreed with a fond sigh as he wiped their breakfast dishes clean, even though they were robots and didn’t eat from plates. They didn’t eat anything at all, actually.

Outside on the sidewalk, Tailgate ran along as fast as he could without letting his school skirt flap too much in the wind behind him. He hoped he would make it in time for morning bell. He wanted to look around and try to find his friends who had also gotten into Iacon High. He also wanted to look for Cyclonus. He knew the other mech would look so handsome in his uniform, even without being symmetrical.

About half-way to the academy, a piece of bread hanging from his faceplates, Tailgate wondered how he had gotten a piece of organic food on Cybertron and how he could hold onto it with his mask up. It seemed like a silly question, but it distracted him enough that, in his haste, he very nearly ran into someone on the sidewalk.

Part of him hoped it was Cyclonus he had nearly run into. Tradition dictated when one ran blindly through one’s neighborhood with a piece of bread hanging from one’s mouth, one would run into one’s love interest. Instead, Tailgate ran into a lamppost and the bread fell from his mouth and dissolved under Cybertron’s higher levels of gravitational pressure.

“I’m still late,” Tailgate gasped, getting to his pedes and rushing all the way to Iacon’s center where the academy awaited.

_\---_  
 _[1] Like eighty fucking years ago._

 

 

  
*    *    *

He got to the academy grounds with just a few minutes to spare. Tailgate stopped at the gates to the inner courtyard and took in the massive white building in front of him. The school was huge! A minibot like himself could get lost all too easily, especially in that crowd. Before he could even try to navigate through the lines of mechs and femmes already joined up with cliques, he heard someone shout behind him.

“Tailgate! Over here!”

Turning, he saw it was his best friend, Swerve. They had grown up together, straight from sparkling-hood into their youngling stages.

“How are you doing, mech?” Swerve asked, clapping Tailgate on the back and nearly sending the ‘bot helm over pede. “You excited to get assigned a homeroom?”

“Yeah!” Tailgate said, rubbing his shoulder. He looked around them with wide optics. “I hope we end up in the same room, Swerve. This place is so big!”

Swerve made a face. “I just hope we don’t end up with Mr. Megatron for homeroom. I heard he uses a fusion cannon on slackers.”

“You are a slacker,” Tailgate pointed out.

“Hence the fear,” Swerve said. He suddenly waved his hand higher above the crowd, calling out to two approaching ‘bots. “Hey! Chromedome, Rewind!”

“Hello,” Chromedome said, waving his spindly fingers once he and his short companion reached Tailgate and Swerve. “Are you guys ready for class?”

“I sure hope so,” Tailgate said, clenching his fists up to his chestplates in excitement. He could barely stand the wait.

The morning bell rang out across the courtyard and the crowd moved further into the yard. Tailgate walked slower than his friends, overwhelmed by the experience so far. He could barely imagine walking through the giant doors in front of them. He had dreamed of it for ages. Not that transformers could enter REM sleep, but he imagined it all the same.

And then—in the break of the crowd, Tailgate saw a flash of purple. He froze and nearly got stepped on by Chromedome. He was too busy staring to care at the moment. Several yards away, Cyclonus was walking toward the entrance. His frame was polished as always, even the base of one of his horns that had been missing for a while after he had gotten into a fight.

Tailgate felt himself gawking and tried to snap out of it as his friends urged him forward. Cyclonus disappeared into the crowd and Tailgate sighed, knowing it was too late to try to find him before they had to get to homeroom.

He hoped they were in the same class!

 

*    *    *

All of their fears amounted to very little when Tailgate walked into room D12. He was at first daunted at the sight of the large red and blue mech at the front of the room, but when the giant mech smiled at the incoming students, he knew they had gotten lucky.

“Good morning, class,” their teacher said. “My name is Optimus Prime and you here today are assigned to my homeroom(2) for this year. It’s a pleasure to meet you all.”

“Score!” Swerve crowed. He sat down in his seat and exchanged a high-five with Rewind, which nearly catapulted the minibot off his seat.

Mr. Prime seemed really nice! Tailgate smiled and swung his legs back and forth in excitement. He was grateful they had gotten a good homeroom teacher after all. After everyone had sat down in their seats, their teacher moved over to stand near the door.

“Class, we have a new student,” Mr. Prime said, motioning to the side. “Everyone, this is Drift.”

“How can we have a new student when it’s the first day?” Swerve asked in a whisper, scrunching his faceplates up in confusion.

“Ssh!” Tailgate told him. He perked up when he saw the new mech standing there. “Oh, he’s cute!”

The new mech was white with red and gray decals. His face, which could have been a very lovely face, was ruined by a perpetual scowl. His backpack was a giant stuffed sword, which was totally kawaii. Drift looked completely disinterested in the attention of the class.

“He’s so kawaii!” Moonracer sighed, gripping her faceplates with a dazed smile. Several other femmes and ‘bots also gushed over the pretty new ‘bot, who continued to look dour at the front of the room.

“Would you like to introduce yourself, Drift?” Mr. Prime asked.

“No,” Drift replied. He took off his pack and sat down in the open seat by the window next to Perceptor, who was too busy adoring his calculator to notice the new student. Drift proceeded to take out a notebook and start scribbling in, undoubtedly filling it with teenage angst suitable to match his brooding.

Mr. Prime wasn’t affected by the behavior. He smiled at the class overall and motioned toward the board.

“Now, since we are all new to the school, I think it would be a good idea to get to know one another. We’ll be working as a team, so learning each other’s designations is the first step.”

Tailgate beamed. He really did like his teacher. They had really lucked out. His happiness wilted a bit when he looked around the name during roll call and realized that the purple mech of his dreams wasn’t there. Disappointment curled up against his spark. Everything had been going so well and now this almost ruined it all—

A crash outside the door caused Mr. Prime and everyone else to stop and look up in surprise. Before anyone could react, the classroom door slammed open to reveal three mechs. The biggest one—an intimidating gray mech with red optics and a fierce scowl—practically hurled a purple and blue mech into the room.

Tailgate gasped. The purple mech was Cyclonus!

“I caught these two miscreants squabbling on the stairs,” the gray professor said, sounding personally affronted from the incident. He glared at the two students who picked themselves up and scowled back at him. Both looked dinged up. “As it turns out, they belong to you, Prime. How unexpected.”

“Thank you for retrieving them for me, Mr. Megatron,” Mr. Prime said, not reacting to the sarcasm. He looked deliberately at Cyclonus and the unknown blue mech with the single optic. “We do not tolerate fighting at Iacon High, gentlebots. I hope you can learn from this.”

Mr. Megatron sneered and went to sweep out of the door. “Do keep a leash on them, Prime. Some of us have lessons to teach.”

Mr. Prime said nothing, only frowned a bit when Mr. Megatron left the classroom. Tailgate did not like that mech. He was too intimidating—and rude.

“Toldja he was a fragger,” Swerve whispered, glaring at the door once it shut.

“So is he basically Snape?” Rewind asked.

“Basically who?”

“Let’s continue, class,” Mr. Prime said, causing their group to flinch and turn around quickly to pay attention. “Mr. Whirl, Mr. Cyclonus, take your seats.”

The blue mech with the single optic sauntered over to an empty seat and seemed to know some of the scarier looking mechs in the corner. Cyclonus walked over, his expression guarded, and sat down in a seat diagonal from Tailgate, behind Chromedome. Mr. Prime continued on with the introductions.

When Cyclonus looked up, Tailgate waved, smiling faintly, but the effort was mostly in vain for two reasons. The first was that his mask and lack of a real mouth prevented smiling. The second was that Cyclonus looked at him for a moment before looking away to the board indifferently. Tailgate lowered his hand and sighed heavily.

Maybe he was just in a bad mood. Tailgate hoped Cyclonus would cheer up soon. Their day was just starting. It surely would get better rather than worse.

\---  
[2] _In actual Japanese schools, students_ _traditionally_ _don’t switch classes. The teachers actually move around instead. But who the fuck cares._

 

 

*    *    *

“HIT THE DECK!”

Tailgate flew out of his chair with Chromedome in sync with him the moment Hoist shouted from the front of the lab. It had taken them all three repeat explosions to know that when someone saw a disaster underway, it was not a joke when they called out the alarm.

The explosion that rocked the chemistry lab only dislodged a few wall panels that time. Tailgate looked up blearily into the faint smoke cloud and saw their professor—Mr. Wheeljack—cheerfully cleaning up his supplies at the front, where he had been helping Trailbreaker with his own mix of chemicals. They had been trying to recreate the effect of rust on Iaconian iron, but…

“That was a good one!” Mr. Wheeljack said, earfins flashing brightly, because apparently robots don’t actually use their useless mouths. “Everyone okay? Good!”

“A good explosion? Where did he get his teaching certificate?” Chromedome asked, visor narrowed.

“This is awesome!” Swerve and Rewind both exclaimed. Rewind continued to take video of the event. He hadn’t stopped since class began.

Tailgate sighed and sat back in his seat after dusting himself. It had been a very long morning. Their lessons were easy so far, but the burst of energy that had gotten him through the morning initially had faded. He didn’t quite know what it was. It could have been the fact that Cyclonus hadn’t said hello to him in any of their classes so far. Tailgate felt his energy drain slowly under the realization that maybe Cyclonus wasn’t as happy to be there with Tailgate as Tailgate was about it. That was very disappointing.

“You okay, mech?” Swerve asked, peering at his friend as they failed to do much else but scribble on their lab reports. They didn’t really want to explode, like poor Dealer had earlier.

Tailgate sighed and poked at his datapad. “Yeah, I’m fine…”

Swerve made a face and seemed to want to push it, but they were all distracted quite violently when a ruckus broke out in front of their table.

“Brainstorm—Brainstorm, wait a moment with those chemicals! They’re quite volatile!” Perceptor shouted, his meek voice strangely loud compared to his normal volume.

Brainstorm snorted and kept the beaker he was holding higher in the air. “Oh, stuff it, nerdbot, I’m doing science!”

“Brainstorm, wait—!”

When Perceptor went to grab the bottle of red liquid, Brainstorm pushed him back. In that same moment, apparently he lost his grip on the beaker and it fell onto the next lab table—Tailgate’s table—and exploded into a giant ball of fire.

“Fire!” Red Alert screeched. He fell backwards into Inferno, who nearly dropped his own beaker.

Why were there flammable chemicals in a first year lab?! Tailgate wondered in horror. He yelped as the fires suddenly arced out in a giant whoosh. He felt the flames hit his legs, but before he could consider the impossibility of him dying a flaming(3) death(4), he was suddenly airborne.

Specifically, he was several feet in the air and held there unexpectedly as the fire died down without access to more accelerant. As the students around them struggled to contain the flames and Mr. Wheeljack finally made his way back to help, Tailgate was stunned. Who had grabbed him…?

When he looked up, his spark jumped. It was Cyclonus!

“Oh!” Tailgate gasped. He gazed up at the purple mech who had was holding him up in the air. “Cyclonus…”

In the midst of all the chaos of putting out the fire, no one else paid them much heed. Cyclonus scowled at the madness before looking back to the minibot he was holding. His white face was still twisted up in a scowl but for a moment, he kept Tailgate aloft.

He then dumped the ‘bot back onto the ground once the fire was successfully quarantined and Brainstorm was reprimanded by Mr. Wheeljack for all of three seconds before the professor complimented him for his technique. Tailgate was too busy gazing after his purple rescuer who walked off back to his own table.

Swerve leaned in behind Tailgate, gazing out after Cyclonus with a narrowed visor. “Dude, you just had a bishie sparkle moment,” he said.

“We’re going to get married!” Tailgate gushed, clasping his hands together.

“Tailgate, you’re still on fire,” Chromedome reminded him, pointing at his flaming side.

“Huh—OH!”

Tailgate was very grateful when the bell rang and they could escape to their next class.

\---  
 _[3]_ “ _Flaming” haha see what I did there (5)_  
[4] _He’s a fucking robot, man, why would he burn to death._  
 _[5]_ _gay robots_

 

 

*    *    *

Lunch finally came, closer toward the end of the day. There was a mad rush to get in line for their energon rations. Swerve already doubled back to try to sneak a second cube. Tailgate found himself standing alone at the edge of the line up to wait for his friend to come back and he felt very exposed there. The massive lunch hall was, well, massive. A minibot like him could get lost (or stepped on) very easily.

That was why he flinched when a slightly larger mech moved up quickly to his side.

“’Sup, lil’ dude!” the white-and-black mech said. Tailgate squinted and realized it was Jazz, one of the more rambunctious members of the student body, who had already made a name for himself as a prankster. “Have you seen a broodin’, dark mech with no sense of humor?”

“Um, you mean like ninety percent of this corner of the hall?” Drift created an emotional blackhole all on his own so it was hard to distinguish him from others.

“No, the other broody guy. He’s got a red chevron and—wait! There he is!” Jazz suddenly exclaimed. He pushed past Tailgate and waved after a tall gray Praxian who seemed to be decidedly ignoring Jazz’s calls. “Prowler, wait up!”

This “Prowler” had no time to react as Jazz hurled himself on to his back and they tumbled into a table that was already occupied. Tailgate watched the chaos that broke out and saw Prowl punch Jazz straight in the helm, while the black-and-white mech merely laughed it off.

“Wow, those guys are already such good friends,” Tailgate noted. He sighed wistfully and walked over to the tables with his tray. “I wish I could have that someday…”

He first needed to find a safe place to sit, tired of waiting for Swerve. He couldn’t find Chromedome or Rewind in the crowd either, so he was left to try to decipher the complicated social cliques that clearly made up a robot high school’s student body.

The nerds, like Perceptor and Beachcomber, had the front left side and they surprisingly shared the area with the hipsters and goths like Drift as the tables went back further. There were the Seeker cliques in the opposite corner with all the grounder jocks close by, which only foretold future fights among them. The Wreckers were toward the left and had a large radius of empty tables between them and other groups since, well, they were hazardous to everyone’s life expectancies. Even the freshmen knew that, especially when they hit robot puberty(6).

Just as his optics fell onto the energizer crowd that stank up the bathroom and tried to sell the underclassmen, Tailgate’s spark leapt in his chassis when he caught sight of purple in the crowd. Cyclonus was sitting at his own solitary table toward the center of the room toward where the combiners sat. Filled with a desire to both escape his own solitude of standing there like a half-bit and the desire to greet his friend, Tailgate scampered over. Cyclonus didn’t look up when Tailgate got to his side. Tailgate took that as a sign to interrupt the mech’s solitude.

“Hi!” Tailgate smiled nervously at the purple mech. “H-hi, Cyclonus.”

Cyclonus paused in lifting his cube. His red optics when to the minibot briefly at his side. “Tailgate,” he acknowledged.

Tailgate shifted on his pedes. “…how do you like school so far?” he ventured after a moment of tense silence. “It’s been a really exciting day for me.”

“It’s tolerable,” Cyclonus said, taking a drink.

“I’m glad we’re in the same homeroom,” Tailgate said, almost in a rush. He fidgeted. “D…did you notice?”

Cyclonus’ optics went to his again, but he went back to drinking in silence. Tailgate fumbled for something to say, but standing there like an idiot seemed like his only option.

Luckily, their other friends found them quickly. Rewind and Chromedome walked up and sat down opposite of Cyclonus’ side. The purple mech glared at them, but didn’t say anything to make them go away.

“Hey, Tailgate, have you seen Swerve?” Rewind asked.

“Yeah, he’s getting more energon,” Tailgate said, pointing back to the lines. He saw Swerve coming back from them, looking disappointed he couldn’t get another ration. “Or trying to.”

“Did you see the new transfer kid? He’s all best friends with Perceptor, of all mechs,” Rewind said, gossiping already.

“Perceptor?” Tailgate asked, surprised. He struggled to find the right words. “Isn’t he, like, a nerd?”

“Apparently hipsters and nerds go well together,” Rewind said. He grinned and tapped his camera lens. “I am documenting for further studies.”

“I’m sure you are,” Chromedome said dryly. The fanfiction shipping had already begun.

“Hey, guys! Sorry I’m…whoa, hey, Cyclonus,” Swerve said once he got closer “Why are you sitting here?”

Cyclonus seemed agitated by all the company. “I was here first,” he pointed out.

“Oh. Right,” Swerve said, without pause. He looked back at the others. “Did you guys here about what happened in the science lab? Red Alert had a melt down and—um.”

Swerve stopping in mid-speech was a rare thing, rare enough that everyone including Cyclonus turned to look at where he was staring. A mech Tailgate didn’t recall knowing was standing at the end of the table, close to where Cyclonus was seated.

“Can I help you?” Swerve asked, arching an optic ridge.

The new mech ignored him. The single-optic mech was strangely familiar to Tailgate. It took him a second, but he recognized the new ‘bot as being none other than the mech who had been fighting with Cyclonus earlier that day!

“Hey, weren’t we beating the slag out of each other earlier?” the light blue rotocopter asked, pointing deliberately at Cyclonus’ faceplates.

Optics narrowing, Cyclonus just sat there. “If you mean that I was successfully beating you in a fight, then yes.”

“I’m Whirl!” the blue mech said cheerfully. “Nice to meet you.”

And then he punched Cyclonus right in the faceplates with his clawed hand.

Almost instantly, the two were rolling away from the table, loudly fighting and snarling things at each other. Tailgate was left standing there in horror as he watched them fight. All around them, a crowd formed and mechs all across the hall stopped to watch the fight in earnest.

“Someone stop them!” Tailgate exclaimed as Whirl slammed Cyclonus into another table.

“Someone set up my SparkTube account!” Rewind said, his recording light flashing brightly on his chassis. “I’m getting great shots from this!”

Standing on top of a table, Sideswipe took the time to shout out across the nearly-speechless room.

“FOOD FIGHT!”

The room promptly descended into chaos as the wound-up students took advantage of Cyclonus and Whirls’ brawl. Soon, cubes of energon were sent flying through the air, which was very irresponsible and dangerous since it was akin to throwing highly volatile acid around. They were robots and didn’t mind the danger, however.

Tailgate was nearly lost in the madness, but after gathering his senses, he tore off across the floor to find where Cyclonus and Whirl had rolled off to. Both students were pummeling each other viciously. Tailgate knew that Cyclonus was a tough ‘bot for sure, but Whirl just seemed crazy. He found them flipping over a bench, with Whirl landing on top with swinging fists.

“Stop!” Tailgate shouted over the noise of all the other students shouting and laughing. He grabbed hold of Whirl’s arm but was instantly thrown to the side. He stumbled back to his pedes to go back over, however. “Leave him alone! Stop fighting!”

It seemed only then that Cyclonus noticed the minibot fumbling around like an idiot. He punched Whirl into another table before turning to snap at Tailgate. “Get out of here, you idiot!”

“Cyclonus—!” Tailgate gasped as Whirl went to lunge at the purple mech.

Thankfully, an insanely loud voice interrupted them.

“WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?”

Tailgate froze, as did Cyclonus and Whirl. It took less than half a breem for the room to settle and all the shouting to cease. At the lunchroom doors stood a tall armored mech who had his hands on his hips as he gazed out at the mess. He wasn’t a normal teacher. Tailgate knew right away that the mech was a true authority figure at the school.

“That’s Ultra Magnus,” Rewind whispered.

“You mean Ultra Stick-Up-My-Aft-Us,” Swerve said, crouching down lower.

The tall blue mech walked into the now-silent lunch room and his blue optics trailed along the student body until it fell upon the three mechs still sprawled on the floor, poised there after their scuffle.

“You three, with me,” Ultra Magnus ordered, pointing directly at Tailgate, Cyclonus and Whirl.

Tailgate jumped. Him, too? He had only been there to help Cyclonus! He didn’t start the fight!

“Who are you?” Whirl asked, single optic squinted in suspicion.

“I am Ultra Magnus, the school disciplinarian and upholder of the Tyrest Educational Accord inside Iacon Academy,” the blue mech said. He motioned with his hand. “Now, follow me, instigators.”

Whirl’s optic flashed gold. “Yeah, well, you can take your Tyrest Accord and stick it up your—”

It did not take long for Ultra Magnus to grab Whirl in a headlock and haul him out the door. Cyclonus and Tailgate exchanged a look before reluctantly following.

Some mechs you didn’t mess with.

\---  
[6] _Guaranteed much worse than organic puberty._

 

 

*    *    *

Tailgate couldn’t stop shaking as Ultra Magnus led them to the principal’s office. His first day and he was already in trouble! His creators would be so disappointed. Cyclonus was as calm as ever and Whirl seemed like he didn’t care about being hauled around so roughly. Tailgate just followed in Ultra Magnus’ shadow and hoped their expulsion would not be too catastrophic. He began to plan for his future on the streets when they arrived at the door and stepped inside.

The principal was sitting at his desk, but he wasn’t sitting in a proper way. He had his feet up on the messy desk, which was covered with datapads and even a few empty energon cubes. The principal, Rodimus Prime, waved as the group entered and Ultra Magnus took his position by Rodimus’ side.

“I brought them, sir,” Ultra Magnus said, frowning at Rodimus, who eventually swung around and sat up properly to face the students.

“So,” Rodimus Prime began, his blue optics bright as they peered down at them, “you guys were the ones fighting, were you?”

“We weren’t fighting!” Tailgate said, too quickly. “At least I wasn’t!”

“It wasn’t a fight. It was a friendly scuffle,” Whirl said, feigning a casual air. He motioned with his claw. “That involved blades. And dents. And inevitable death.”

Rodimus arched an optic ridge. “What class was it?”

“It was lunch hour, sir,” Tailgate said, fidgeting nervously.

“Aw, a food fight and I wasn’t even there?” Rodimus said, surprising them with his sudden dismay. He sat back in his chair and practically pouted. “That’s no fair!”

Before anyone could question his disappointment, the looming figure to his left rumbled lowly.

“The waste of academy resources meant for consumption is an additional slight to be added to your records,” Ultra Magnus said, his dull voice tinged with irritation. Tailgate was mildly relieved to note the irritation was aimed at the principal when Ultra Magnus turned to his boss. “Rodimus, it is improper to sulk over missing the chance to intercede.”

“I wouldn’t have interceded, I would have joined in!” Rodimus said, scowling.  “Man, I hate this desk job.”

One of Ultra Magnus’ optics twitched. “Rodimus, that is a grievously unprofessional statement to make. These students have violated fourteen different academy rules in just a few breems.”

“Fourteen?!” Tailgate gasped. His creators would be so mad.

“One for fighting on academy grounds, one for wasting energon, two for improper attire, one for shouting inside the principal’s office—,” Ultra Magnus began.

"So, what, am I supposed to give you guys detention for fighting?” Rodimus said, interrupting his assistant principal nonchalantly. He peered at the three students in front of him. “That seems like it wouldn’t curb the problem. What’s the issue here, you guys don’t like each other?”

“I despise him,” Cyclonus said, without even bothering to look at Whirl.

“I just think he’s ugly,” Whirl offered politely, inclining his mono-optic face toward Cyclonus.

Tailgate gripped his faceplates. “What were the nine other violations?!”

“Who cares?” Rodimus asked, shrugging.

Cyclonus snorted, which was as close to amused as he would get. Tailgate’s confusion was diluted with a faint sense of disappointment; he wished he could make Cyclonus laugh.

Meanwhile, the assistant principal began to threaten the principal.

“I’m going to stab you in the faceplates,” the blue ‘bot said, in such a way a mech might explain he was going to change a date for a meeting. Tailgate paused; maybe Ultra Magnus was not as stuffy as he had expected. Instead, he was merely as insane as the rest of the professors. Neato.

“That’s unprofessional,” Rodimus said, his voice taking on a mocking lilt. He sent the three students in front of them a severe look. “Don’t be like Ultra Magnus, kids, when you grow up.”

“We’re in high school, we’re not kids,” Whirl grumbled.

“What’s a kid?” Tailgate asked, but he never got an answer. He never got answers.

“Look,” Rodimus began, squinting at the three students as he continued to ignore his irate second-in-command, “just go back to your class and try not to start fights. At least not on school ground. Go nuts once you go home, though. I’d say it’d be better for the school and Ultra Magnus’ processor in you guys tore each other up off campus.”

The three stared at him.

“And if it’s a good fight, take pictures to show me later,” Rodimus said. He smiled brightly. “Okay. You’re dismissed!” 

“This is going on your records,” Ultra Magnus said through clenched denta.

Whirl rolled his one optic and spun around to leave. Cyclonus made no real effort to show he cared either way and turned to leave at a much more relaxed pace. Tailgate remained where he was and still struggled to formulate an answer to his current crisis.

“But what were the other nine?!” Tailgate asked, agonized.

Cyclonus grabbed him under the arms and hauled him out the door as Ultra Magnus began to hurl datapads at Rodimus who yelped in surprise.

 

 

*    *    *

Whirl stalked off as quickly as he could. Tailgate could care less where the mech went. He was busy have a minor panic attack in the hallway. Cyclonus stood back from him, but seemed intent on waiting for the minibot to move onward. Tailgate didn’t quite realize the implications of that, since, well, he was having a panic attack about being expelled.

“What do you think the other nine were?” Tailgate asked, still floundering in despair. “Do you think they were really bad? I can’t believe we have fourteen violations on our record now. This is terrible!”

“I doubt that means much if that idiot Prime in charge doesn’t think a record violation is worth his attention,” Cyclonus said, indifferent.

Tailgate whined. “But what if it is worth something? I wanted so badly to come here and now…now I might not be able to stay!”

“There is always the Kaonite Academy. And Vosian Academy,” Cyclonus pointed out as they walked.

“Vos is for Seekers and Kaon scares me,” Tailgate admitted, not noticing he was actually having a conversation with Cyclonus for once. He stopped walking and stared out at the hallway. “I just…I just wanted to come here…”

“Why?” Cyclonus asked, optics narrowed in confusion.

“Because…” Tailgate fumbled over the words. Finally, he gave up. He lowered his gaze and stared at the floor, feeling irrationally ashamed. “Because you were going here, too.”

There. It was out. He could only imagine how embarrassed Cyclonus was, since Tailgate himself felt horrendously exposed. For a moment, he had thought admitting he wanted to be closer to the other mech would be better than never saying anything.

After a long, drawn out period of silence, Tailgate winced and realized it hadn’t been the best idea. Cyclonus was so reserved and tsundere—he didn’t want to hear something like that.

“I’m sorry, Cyclonus. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable,” he said, shoulders going up. He took a step backwards to leave and drown in the cesspool of emotions currently growing in his chestplates. What a stupid idea!

Cyclonus kept staring at him and then confirmed his feelings. “You’re an idiot.”

“Um. Okay.” And with that, Tailgate accepted he would just have to never show his face in public again. He turned to leave.

A hand stopped him, gripping onto his shoulder tight enough to make him yelp. Tailgate was stunned when he realized Cyclonus stopped him from leaving.

“Going to classes together means nothing when concerning social interactions,” Cyclonus said. When Tailgate turned to look up at the taller mech, he was momentarily shocked by the fact the mech was acknowledging him.

“It does mean something, though!” Tailgate said. He stood up taller, still only coming up to Cyclonus’ thigh. “The Academy is supposed to foster friendships as we learn together. I just…I just wanted…”

The other mech rolled his red optics. “We see each other outside of class enough.”

“We do?” Tailgate asked, surprised. He belated realized Cyclonus was right; they could very well meet up outside of school, no matter what happened. He hesitated. “Wait…”

Did that mean…?

Did that mean they were already friends? That Cyclonus wanted to be friends?

Tailgate seized up with joy and gazed up at Cyclonus with unshielded affection. The purple mech continued to humor his existence. It was a start.

“You’re right,” Tailgate gushed. He raised a closed fist to his chestplates and felt an odd rush of determination. “I don’t need the Academy just to make or keep friends. But I still want to learn here.”

“Then pray that idiot will disregard his uptight assistant’s notations,” Cyclonus said, finally removing his hand. He started to walk again. “We’re late for our last class.”

“Right!” Tailgate said, now much more confident.

He had to nearly run to keep up with the taller mech as they walked back toward the stairs. The whole time, Tailgate felt lighter and lighter.

“I’m glad we’re friends, Cyclonus,” Tailgate said, grinning up at the purple mech.

Cyclonus didn’t meet his gaze. “Ngh.” A true tsundere.

Tailgate skipped all the way to their homeroom, at least until Cyclonus slapped him in the helm, but that was okay. That’s what friends did.

 

 

*    *    *

At the gentle chime of the clock, classes let out at three and a steam of excited students left Iacon High to head home. Tailgate felt reluctant to leave after having such a wonderful time. He walked with his friends to the bus and felt lighter in his light blue school uniform.

Just ahead was Cyclonus, who was reluctantly listening to one of Swerve’s many plans to prank the professors. Tailgate was happy to see his two best friends in the whole of Cybertron getting along. The irritable punch Cyclonus gave Swerve on the helm was merely a manifestation of their closeness.

“You have a good day, Tailgate?” Rewind asked as they clambered on to the bus.

Tailgate nodded. “I sure did!”

In reflection, maybe some things could have gone better. Maybe Cyclonus and Whirl not getting into a fight would have been good. Not having to worry about dying a fiery death in lab would also have given Tailgate fonder memories. Getting hauled into the principal’s office on the first day of class had been traumatizing. But the times in between those moments made him smile.

He might have had a rough start, but things were better than he had expected. Tailgate had a great selection of classes, he had his friends, he even had new ones, and he finally felt confident in his friendship with Cyclonus. A spare glance at the brooding ‘bot across the isle made Tailgate smile. Yes, it was certainly a great turn of events.

“Tailgate,” Swerve suddenly said, interrupting his good feelings as the bus drove them home.

“Yes?” Tailgate asked, looking at his friend.

“Why the fuck are we wearing school uniforms when we transform into cars?” Swerve asked. “And why are we taking the bus?”

“I transform into a memory stick,” Rewind said from the front of the bus.

“No one cares,” Whirl said.

Tailgate smiled behind his mask. It was a great first day!

 

 

  
**The End.**  
 **I hate you so much, Bill. Happy Birthday.**


End file.
